


fear as a vice.

by projectfreelancer



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 09:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectfreelancer/pseuds/projectfreelancer
Summary: olai has ruined a lot for odin, but he will not let gil be one of them.(or memories of fears odin has)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [worry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/gifts).



> the (stuff) in parenthesis are memories and the end of it is set in the present.
> 
> just another part of my gil/odin(/olai) stuff
> 
> i really love villain!Olai... a lot

Odin has known nightmares all his life.

His brother is one. His brother is every fear tied into one body of skin. Odin is afraid of— _many_ things: guns, and falling, and dying, and being touched, and falling in love. Odin is afraid of it all, and Olai becomes them each.

(The gun is in Odin’s hands. The gun is pointing at a man. “Our enemy,” Olai is purring into his ear, hands sickening across Odin’s shoulder. “He doesn’t deserve to live. Shoot him _._ ” Odin wants to cry, feels it bubble in his eyes, anxiety chase in his veins. He doesn’t want this. To be a killer; to be a soldier; to be everything his brother craves in him. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want. He is only a child.

And Olai’s fingers curl disgusting around Odin’s, around the gun, and when they both pull the trigger together—aimed right at the man’s heart—he worries their hands will stay glassed together, sewn-shut with bullets.

Odin feels sick for days.)

 

(Odin is not supposed to touch the ship’s console. “That is for your superiors to do,” Olai tells him. “Just do as I tell you, and one day you’ll be in charge of one of my ships,” Olai tells him.

The words **my ship** burns Odin. It will not be Odin’s own ship. Every part of Odin belongs to Olai and Olai only.

Pride crucifies him. Pride will ruin him one day. He is going to get himself killed; Olai will kill him; or he’ll kill himself. He presses a bright-shiny button. And the ships blares its disagreement, reveals Odin’s pride and disobedience to the entire world on a loudspeaker.

 _“_ Get out” _,_ his brother growls, something vulgar, something crude. He’s a monster to Odin. Odin thinks, _he’s going to kill me one day_.

And monster hands push at Odin, door wide-open, pushingpushingpushing, and Odin is falling out of the ship, and they aren’t _that_ high up, but he could have died. He could have.

And when he hits the grass hard, dirt bruising at him, Odin knows that Olai would’ve pushed him out no matter how high they were.)

 

(“You disobey me like you’re someone important.” Olai is off on a tangent, as he usually is, as Odin is usually deserving of one. Odin imagines one day that he could be the one to terrorize his brother one day. _I could do it. I could kill him. I have a gun in my pocket. He taught me how to use it. I could ki_ —

But Olai is already pointing a gun at his head, and Odin is scared. _Pitiful_. Nerves wrench his guts, and he has prayed to die before, but now the gun stares wildly at him, and Odin is—

Odin is afraid of many things, and the way his older brother caresses the gun he holds to his head terrifies him the most.

“One day,” Olai is saying, words drawn out, and Odin knows his tongue could slice silver, “You’re going to get yourself killed. Don’t make me be the one who does it.”)

 

(Olai touches him like he’s a bomb. Like he’s dirty; vulgar; disgusting to even look at. Olai snake-slithers his hands across Odin’s arms, “Hold yourself like this for better aim,” and Odin wants to twist away. But he knows snakes bite, and Odin is very tired of bleeding out poison.

Olai touches him like he’s his toy.

But Gil Marverde touches Odin like he’s fragile. Like if he touches too hard, Odin will collapse and turn to shards. Like Gil is capable of breaking; ruining; destroying. And Odin wants to laugh, wants to feel the bitter sound crawl out of his throat, tell Gil, _if anyone is capable of ruining someone, i’ll be the one to ruin you. don’t make me be the one who does it._

And Gil kisses him like he’s holy. Like Gil can taste Paradise in Odin’s mouth. Like he can scratch his way to Titan with his nails in Odin’s back. Like it’s a prayer the way he moans out Odin’s name. Like Gil is not afraid of Odin.

But Odin is afraid of _him,_ because he knows the two of them are just lust, but there is always a fine line between lust and love. Odin is afraid of Gil Marverde because he is afraid of many things, and one of them is falling in—)

 

Odin does not love Olai. Odin fears him like a child fears the underneath of the bed. Fears him like fire fears water. Odin is afraid; all Odin has ever been taught by his brother is how to be afraid.

And he knows Olai hungers and does not know how to be full. And Odin brings Gil to his home, his planet, and Olai is a predator-snake. Olai looks at Gil, and lusts. Olai looks at Gil, and preys. Olai looks at Gil, and hungers.

Olai snake-says, “Gil, so nice to meet you. I’ve heard much about you,” a quick sneer at Odin, “My brother can be quite annoying.”

Gil’s face looks — intrigued. And a giggle comes out of his throat, and Odin is afraid. He thinks, _If Olai takes this from me too, then I will—_

“I wouldn’t agree nowadays, but I would have months ago,” Gil says. Odin knows that’s something. That Olai lost that round. Pride again burns at him.

But Olai is not that easy to stop. “He also mentioned you studied at one of the Titan schools. I heard they know a lot about ships and such.” Gil nods at Olai’s words, confidence painting his face bright. “While you visit, I’d love to show you my own ship. It’s very state-of-the-art. Something you’ve probably never seen before. I can tell you all about it,” and Olai’s close to Gil, too close, and his hands brush against Gil’s arms, and —

“We aren’t staying long,” Odin says, anything to disrupt their moment. Because Odin may not love Gil, but he’s still _his_ , and Olai is not capable of loving. Olai’s eyes sting like knives, and Odin is taking Gil’s arms in his hands, and pulling them–anywhere. Anything to keep Olai from Gil.

  


Gil adapts to Odin’s bedroom better than Odin has in his entire life. Gil looks at the dusty room and genuinely smiles. “It’s small,” the boy says, and Odin knows it’s not an insult. There is not much to take in–Odin’s room is bare–but he sits on Odin’s bed like he owns it. “Is this the only house you’ve ever lived in?”

“Yes. Th-this has been my room my wh-whole life,” and Odin wants to continue it, wants to stay, _i’ve always hated it here but i like the way you look in it._ But Odin is not that type of person, and Gil only lusts for him.

Odin sits next to him, and for a blessed moment, Gil’s hands settle across his own. The boy says, “It reminds me of my home,” and he turns to him, hands crossing his shoulders, pushing him into the bed.

 _Only lust_ , Odin thinks when Gil is atop him, straddling him, the bedroom light seeming to caress his head as a halo. It’s only lust when Gil kisses Odin, when Gil’s fingers smoothe down his cheeks, smile agrace his lips as they kiss. It’s beautiful, Odin knows, and _beautiful_ doesn’t belong in lust. _Beautiful_ belongs in love, and Odin is very afraid of falling in—

Gil’s lips drift from him, staying close enough that Odin feels his breath against him. “I love you,” Gil says like a prayer. Like a hymn. Like the way he moans in Odin’s bed.

But fear clenches Odin’s throat. He is _afraid_ of this. Afraid that Gil thinks Odin is worthy of his love. Afraid that Gil thinks he deserves someone like Odin. Because Gil is something that could ascend into divinity, and Odin is dirty-wrong damned.

And so he does all he knows how to do. Odin destroys. “Gil, I–” and Gil’s face is full of hope, and Odin _ruins._

“I don’t feel the same way. This is just about… sex.” And his stutter is gone, and he ignores the reason why.

Gil’s face is ruined and streaked with tears, and Gil is leaving, and Gil is gone. In the matter of seconds, Odin has ruined the only thing he had left.

Some sick part of him feels proud.

The voice in his head sounds sickly alike Olai’s saying, _you’re only good at hurting others_.

  


Odin doesn’t see Gil for hours, hiding himself away in his room, anything to distract himself from how he is only capable of ruining.

And when he sees him, no, sees _them_ , he feels—

_Ruined._

Olai kisses into Gil’s mouth, and Gil is kissing back with Olai’s hands in his hair, and his knee between Gil’s legs. And Odin is drenched in jealousy-kerosene, ready for anyone to light the flame and set him on—

The way Gil moans out Olai’s name is the flames, heat curling inside of Odin. Gil acts weak for Odin’s brother, pressed against the hallway wall, and Odin should have known Olai would take this from him. Olai is selfish and destroys Odin, and Olai knew Gil was what Odin desires most. That Gil was Odin’s redemption and hope, and Olai slices that hope from Odin, and Odin learned how to _ruin_ because Olai taught him. And that the one most to blame is Odin: for rejecting Gil, for letting Olai get into Gil’s mind, for ever _falling in love_ with Gil in the first place.

But pride bubbles his blood, and bitter, he thinks, _Good, I hope they’re happy together._

But deep-down, Odin knows that is impossible. Odin is afraid of many things, and Olai taught him every single one. And Odin is afraid of falling in love, and Olai is the one who taught them that an Arrow—that a _soldier_ —cannot fall in love.

  
Odin wishes Gil had never met either of them.


End file.
